About a year or so after we bought our house in France, we were visited by an attractive tortoiseshell cat. She wandered in through the open kitchen door, settled on the sofa and made herself at home. We presumed that she was one of the tribe of semi-feral cats that are loosely owned by our neighbour. Over the next few years, each time we stayed, she would be there waiting for us to open up and at the end of our stay would complain loudly when shown the door. As time went on, we dubbed her “Honey” as a consequence of her colouring.
We wondered vaguely what would happen when we moved in permanently – along with a tribe of ten cats of our own. How would she take to it? How would ours take to her? When we did finally move in, Honey just assumed command and our cats could either like it or lump it. By and large, they have chosen to either ignore the cantankerous biddy or treat her with detached bemusement.
Also, not being neutered, Honey was producing several litters of kittens each year. We assumed, correctly as it turned out, that when we moved in permanently, she would have them in our house. During the Easter weekend, she took up residence in Mrs L’s wardrobe and produced four kittens. One, unfortunately, died shortly afterwards, but the three survivors are doing well.
This left us with a quandary – one litter of kittens is all very well, but several per annum just wasn’t on. Today, Mrs L has been speaking to our neighbour whose laissez faire approach to keeping cats is well known in the village (and not necessarily approved of). The upshot being; we can have Honey and kittens with his blessing. Which means when the kittens are weaned, Honey is off to the vet’s for the snip. The kittens will follow in about six months.
During the conversation, our neighbour remarked upon the current infighting going on between the French cats and the English cats as ours assert themselves and sort out some territory. Like their distinguished forebears, they are winning; just don’t mention Waterloo, Poitiers, Agincourt or Crecy.
Anyway, a picture of Honey and kittens; Kiya, Osiris and Thutmose.
I don’t particularly like cats but little kittens are just irresistibly cute.
That’s how evolution works. Cute = gravy train for life.
We too have been adopted by the local cats although they keep their distance from our vocal King Charles. The locals here keep asking our kids to assist with the local pageant that is the “Battle of Castillion” the end of the 100 years war which the French won.Fortunately my kids decline, with my stroppy daughter that 100 year war could be extended.
Ah, you’re just a great softy deep down.
A fine family, Ms Potter (and I!) approve thoroughly.
How ruffianly are /your/ veterinary surgeons there, about fees?
Here, in the towns, it is obscene and not enough on that gravy train do the occasional donated pays and neuters.
Our country vet though in Bricelyn, MN, Dr Peterson, only charges forty dollars for a spaying and he is dab hand.
We have yet to find out as this will be our first encounter. I am bracing myself for the bill.